


experimenting with sexuality

by 101places



Series: aos pride [6]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Jemma Simmons, F/M, Pre-Series, Season 2, Season 3, post-season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 14:44:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19275448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/101places/pseuds/101places
Summary: Jemma Simmons has always excelled at conducting experiments. She imagines that experimenting with her sexuality will be no different.( AKA : she's bi bi bi )





	experimenting with sexuality

**Author's Note:**

> i dont Like to start a/n's with stuff i dont like abt what i write bc i feel like it gives people lower expectations but tbh? not the biggest fan of this one dfmsmfds i like some parts but oddly this one kept getting away from me. i just wanted to get it done & posted by the end^^;;;
> 
> i'll probably write something else with simmons being bi as hell to make up for it!
> 
> as always kudos/comments are appreciated! i hope you enjoy regardless!

It was Christmas morning, and the Simmons household was a flurry of movement as the children ( well- one 11-year-old pre-teen, one teenager and one young adult, but who’s keeping track? ) eagerly unwrapped their presents. The movements of the two older ‘children’ were frantic, with barely a pause to exclaim their delighted surprised as they opened gifts they’d been waiting months for.

The younger, however, was different. While she had originally began with the same level of energy as her siblings, Jemma was now sitting in the middle of her piles of still-wrapped presents, one particular gift held in her hands. She stared down at it with an awed expression.

“Sweetie,” Her mother spoke up after a minute or so, “Why don’t you open the rest?”

Jemma looked at the rest of her presents, then back to the book in her hands, her brows furrowed as she tried to work out which course of action would give her more pleasure.

Her brother looked over curiously, speaking with a teasing tone when he saw what was in her lap. “Aww, Jemma’s got a crush.”

Her sister, Jessie, glanced over at that, rolling her eyes, “Leave her alone, James. I think it’s cute.”

Jemma glanced between her siblings. She knew that James was trying to say something with his teasing comment, but she couldn’t for the life of her work out what.

Her father leaned towards her, and Jemma looked over to see what he was going to say. “You don’t need to open the rest now if you don’t want to. Just sit and read if you’d like- your gifts aren’t going anywhere.”

With those words of reassurance, Jemma made herself more comfortable on the floor and opened up her book, letting the world around her disappear as she focussed in on the amazing words written by one Peggy Carter.

 

.

 

It was two years later, and 13-year-old Jemma Simmons was stood in her lab, looking over the results of her latest piece of research.

Though, perhaps it would be unfair to call it a lab. It was less of a lab and more of an outdoor, children’s playroom-slash-shack that had been converted into something vaguely resembling a lab. Originally it was where the Simmons children had spent their time, back when they were younger and they all lived at home, but as James had moved away to University and Jessie became more interested in her peers than her younger sister, Jemma slowly became the sole user of it. So adjustments had been made so it could better fit her needs.

Her research projects were typically biochem based, anyway, and though they wouldn’t admit it, Jemma thought that her parents were rather grateful to not have to cope with the stains, explosions or smells that would frequently come alongside her experiments. When Jemma worked in her lab, she was the only one that had to put up with these things- and she really didn’t mind putting up with what came with them.

Today, though, there was no need to put up with such things. Her current project had next to no practical elements.

She continued to review her work carefully, stopping only in response to the knock at her door. She threw a sheet over the board holding her research, hiding it from view, before darting over to the door and opening it.

On the other side was Jessie, who looked into the lab curiously, frowning when she saw none of the typical chaos. She looked down at Jemma. “I have a few minutes before I have to go. Thought you might want to hang out.”

Jemma pursed her lips. Part of why she’d been throwing herself into her research was because Jessie was leaving for University today, and she had decided that she didn’t particularly want to think about the next year that she’d have to spend at home without her. She stepped back after a moment, allowing Jessie into the lab.

Jessie walked around, smiling fondly at the apparatus. Jessie didn’t come to visit the lab very often anymore, but Jemma wondered if she’d miss it anyway.

As Jemma watched her sister walk around, her gaze kept darting over to the hidden board of research. On an impulse, she spoke up: “Um, I’ve been doing some research. Can I tell you about it?”

Jessie looked over and smiled brightly. “I’d love to hear about it, go ahead.”

Jemma walked over to the board, pulling the sheet off and, without giving Jessie enough time to read what she had written there, launched into a speech.

“This topic is independent of my degree- it isn’t a topic that really links in to astrobiology- though, that being said, most topics can link into anything if you try hard enough. I’d need to get a stronger grasp on the basics of this before I could try to apply it to astrobiology, however...”

Jessie listened intently, and when Jemma hesitated she prompted her with a compassionate smile, “So, what’s the topic?”

“Right! The topic.” Jemma wasn’t sure why she suddenly felt nervous. “Well… you see… You know that I am very fascinated with Peggy Carter. I have read every reputable biography about her life, and a number of disreputable ones. I can’t count how many hours I’ve spent watching interviews that she’s given over the years, and… well- I have lots of reasons for admiring her. She is a very admirable woman! But, after some introspection, I began to wonder if… I… uh… I began to wonder if…”

Jemma trailed off, looking down at her feet as she tried to will the words to come out of her head.

Jessie, to her credit, didn’t seem impatient for her to continue. “It’s okay, Jem. Take your time.”

After a few moments of toying with different phrasings, Jemma eventually just blurted out: “IthinkthatIlikegirls.”

There was silence for a few, long seconds and Jemma began to wonder if she’d just made a horrible mistake. Slowly, she forced herself to lift her head to see Jessie’s reaction. To her surprise, Jessie was continuing to smile.

“Well done, Jemma. That must’ve been rough, huh?”

The dread that had risen in Jemma’s chest vanished. “You’re okay with it?”

Jessie nodded. “You’re my sister, Jem. Nothing you tell me could change how I feel about you.”

Jemma frowned. “Well, that’s not true. What if I told you that I had killed James? I rather think that would change things.”

Jessie laughed, walking forwards so she could read what Jemma had written on her board, “Honestly, if something made you kill him he probably would’ve deserved it.”

Jemma gave a small giggle, “That’s probably true.”

Jemma watched Jessie read through her research for a while, feeling a sense of calm that she hadn’t felt for a significant amount of time. When she was satisfied, Jessie turned and looked down at Jemma.

“So, you’re gay?” She summarised.

Jemma paused. “I don’t really know. I think that I like girls, and I think that I like boys, but as I don’t have any practical experience with others I couldn’t tell you for definite. It’s all just theorising.”

Jessie shrugged. “You don’t need to know. It’s okay to say you’re questioning, or to pick up a label and later find out that you’re wrong.”

Jemma pulled a face. “But I’m never wrong.”

“I think you’ve found the one thing that your big brain can’t coast you through, Jem.” Jessie laughed quietly. “So just take your time with it. No one expects you to know all of the answers- and if anyone ever gives you shit about it, come tell me. I’ll come back home exclusively to beat them up for you.”

Jemma didn’t hesitate, immediately closing the gap between them and wrapping her arms around her sister. In return, Jessie brought her arms around Jemma.

“I love you.” Jemma said. “And I’m going to miss you a lot.”

Jessie gently pet Jemma’s head. “Me too, Jem. Me too.”

 

.

 

Technically speaking, neither Fitz nor Simmons were supposed to be drinking. They were 17 years old, and while it would be perfectly legal for them to be drinking if they were back home, in America it was very much not legal. That wasn’t stopping them, though, and neither was it stopping their peers who seemed very amused by the tipsy baby geniuses.

Up until half an hour ago Fitz and Simmons had been attempting to drunkenly explain the plot of their favourite episodes of Doctor Who, however, after Fitz had become distracted on a tangent about how ‘Obviously time travel wouldn’t really be possible’ Simmons had ended up wandering off, and she found herself sitting in a room by herself, listening to the muffled sound of the party on the other side of the door.

For a while she sat there alone, until eventually the door creaked open and a familiar head of floppy hair could be seen peeking around.

Fitz squinted over at her. He glanced back out into the corridor, before making up his mind and entering the room, shutting the door behind him. The tension left his body somewhat when they were alone, but he still looked a bit awkward stood there. Parties weren’t really his idea of fun.

“What- uh- what are you doing in here?” He asked after a few moments.

Simmons was frowning, something clearly on her mind. She looked over at Fitz, and answered honestly. “I’m thinking about girls.”

Fitz blinked. “U-Um. What?”

“Girls, Fitz. Women, ladies. The binary gender that you are not.”

“I know what girls are, Simmons.” Fitz seemed oddly defensive, as if he really did think that Simmons had doubted that. “What are you thinking about them?”

Simmons sighed deeply and collapsed backwards on the bed. “How smooth their skin is, and how soft their hair is. How maybe it would be nice to kiss one, some day. Or maybe even hold their hand.”

“Oh.” Fitz said. Then, “Do you like-like girls?”

Simmons shrugged. “I don’t know. I think so. Maybe. It’s my hypothesis of bisexuality. Maybe I should write a paper on it.”

“On queer theory?” Fitz asked.

“No. About whether I’m bi. But maybe that would be queer theory, also.”

Fitz walked over and sat on the bed beside her. Simmons shifted and dropped her head into his lap, causing a light blush to spread across Fitz’s face.

“I’d need to conduct experiments to write my paper.” Simmons continued, “Maybe I should ask a girl out on a date.”

“I don’t think anyone would say yes.”

Simmons sent Fitz a horrified look, and he replayed what he’d just said in his mind.

“Wait- no- what I meant was-” He quickly tried to backtrack, “The youngest girl in our class, besides you, is Callie Rice, and she’s- she’s twenty! And she keeps calling us baby geniuses! I just- I just meant that everyone in our class- all the girls that we talk to are- well- they’re double our age.”

“You think that 20 is double 17? Don’t you have an A-Level in Maths?” Simmons wondered quietly.

“Advanced Highers, but I was exaggerating.”

“Oh.” Simmons fell silent for a few moments, before looking up at Fitz with puppy-dog eyes. “Do you really not think anyone would date me?”

Fitz wasn’t sure he could navigate this situation when sober, but he was sure that he could do a much better job while tipsy. Probably. “No one decent. Maybe one of the creepy men would say yes, but-”

Simmons pulled herself up to her feet and began to make for the door. Fitz blinked and got up to follow her and ensure that she wasn’t about to make a decision that she’d regret in the morning.

 

.

 

Simmons was 21 years old, it was 2am, and she was quietly sneaking back into her flat. She’d spent the night out with a man, and it had seemed to go well. He was quite the gentleman, really, and she was sure that he’d be more than happy to take her on another if she asked. The question was- did she want to ask?

She gently shut her door behind her and began to creep towards her bedroom. If she was lucky, she could make it through the living room and to her bed without waking--

“S-Simmons!”

_ Busted _ .

Fitz was sitting on the sofa, the light of the TV illuminating his face. His hair was messy and he looked tired, as if he’d been staying up. Simmons silently willed him to spontaneously fall back asleep.

“Hello Fitz,” She said instead, aiming for casual but over-selling it, “Wh-What are you doing up at this… fine hour?”

Fitz rubbed at his eyes blearily. “It’s 2am, Jemma.” Oh no. The first name. This was going to go somewhere. “I was worried.”

Simmons looked over at the clock as if she had only just noticed the time. “Oh my! Is it that late already? Why, I was simply having so much fun that I-” She cut herself off when she saw the blank look on Fitz’s face. He wasn’t buying it. She sighed deeply and walked over, collapsing on the sofa beside him. “Why is personal identity so confusing?”

“Why do you always try to initiate these conversations in the middle of the night?” Fitz complained lightly, before letting out his own sigh as he decided to indulge her for a little while, at least. “What happened?”

Simmons dropped her head back, staring up at the ceiling. “The experiment was a disaster, Fitz. He was so aesthetically pleasing, and he was perfectly polite, but he was also…  _ so boring _ .”

“That’s what you say after all of your dates.” Fitz pointed out.

“Ugh, I know. It’s as if people can only be beautiful  _ or  _ interesting.” She was pouting by this point. “Sometimes I wonder if I like men at all.”

“Because they’re all boring?”

“Yes!” Simmons agreed empathetically. “But it’s more than just that. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man who actually understands me, or has the same interests as me. I’m not asking for some psychic link, but a touch of basic empathy would be nice.”

Fitz hummed in agreement. “Right. I wonder what it must be like to have someone who understands you.”

“You know what I meant.” Simmons rolled her eyes, then reached into her bag and pulled out her notebook, flipping open a page and drawing a straight line. Curious, Fitz leaned over to see what she was up to, and immediately began to wheeze when he caught sight of what was written.

“Okay- okay. I think you were right- I really  _ don’t _ understand that.” He managed to get out. “It looks like a hitlist.”

“Don’t be over-dramatic.” Simmons chided, “Making checklists helps me to keep things organised, you know that.”

“Yes- and when that’s for things like- like groceries, or methodology for our experiments it’s fine, but this- this is- you’re making your way through all of our colleagues?”

“Don’t be silly, Fitz. You’re completely misunderstanding.” Simmons said with a patronising tone. “It’s not  _ all _ of our colleagues. I’m not including the taken men or the straight women.”

“ _ Why _ ?”

Simmons got up and began to make her way to her bedroom, replying to him over her shoulder. “It’s like you said. Methodology for my experiment.”

She shut her door behind her, leaving Fitz staring at the space where she’d been before. His mouth hung open as he tried to process what had just happened, and eventually he spoke up quietly to the empty room. “I think you’re taking ‘experimenting with your sexuality’ too literally, Simmons…”

 

.

 

Simmons was 27, and over the past few years she’d begun working in the field, fallen from a plane in-flight, watched the institution she’d sworn herself to for the past decade crumble around her, nearly drowned in the Atlantic, and successfully survived two months undercover in the HYDRA’s nest, so to speak, yet somehow what she felt least qualified for was the opportunity stood in front of her.

“Come on, Simmons! You’ve been back for a week already- it’s time to let your hair down and actually have some fun!” Skye was basically pleading with her.

Simmons hesitated. She would really prefer to be doing her research. The differences between her relationships with her friends were so blatant, so difficult to ignore, it was easier to avoid them. It was easier to focus on science, that was always true and pure with no inherent ‘right’ or ‘wrong’. She didn’t need to police herself when she was working.

Noticing her hesitation, Skye slipped in a detail to help sweeten the deal. “Agent Morse is coming.”

Well, Simmons thought to herself as she walked beside Skye to the rec room, her research could wait one night.

In the rec room, a few agents were gathered. Simmons recognised Agent Triplett, Agent Morse- no, Bobbi- and, of course, Fitz. There were another couple that she didn’t recognise, but Skye quickly introduced them as Agent Mackenzie and Agent Hunter. Apparently they were friends with Fitz. It was good that he had made new friends, she thought idly, pushing away the quiet voice that whispered about how quickly she’d been replaced.

She was here to have fun, not to worry about things that couldn’t be changed.

When everyone was seated, Hunter produced an empty bottle and set it in the middle of their circle, while Skye looked up at them all eagerly.

“I’m guessing you all know how to play?” Skye checked.

Trip laughed quietly. “C’mon, girl, we’ve all been teenagers.”

Skye grinned. “Then let’s go!”

The game began, and after a short while of watching her friends and colleagues make absolute fools of themselves, Simmons found herself beginning to relax. This was okay.

Then it came her turn to spin the bottle. She spun it, silently praying that it didn’t land on Fitz (because that was the last thing they needed now, when everything was so complicated), and quietly wondered if that wish had been a bad idea when it slid to a stop facing Bobbi.

Simmons stared at the other agent with some mix of fear and excitement in her chest. It was certainly a strange sensation, and it only grew stronger when Bobbi looked over at her with a pleasant smile.

“I think this means we have to kiss.” Bobbi said, her voice amused.

“I suppose it does.” Simmons replied, hoping that her voice didn’t sound as weak to the others as it did to her.

Simmons shuffled across the floor until she was in front of Bobbi. Bobbi reached forwards and tilted Simmons chin up, and Simmons suddenly found that she couldn’t hear anything over the sound of her heart pounding in her chest. They both leaned closer, letting their lips ghost over one another. They were only touching for a few seconds at most, but as Simmons returned to her spot she couldn’t get the sensation of Bobbi’s lips on hers out of her mind.

_ That _ , Simmons thought to herself quietly,  _ was quite the experiment _ .

 

.

 

Simmons was 28, and currently habiting on what she was sure was the closest thing to ‘Hell’ that existed.

There was very little in the way of food and water, and absolutely nothing in the way of sunlight. Everything was dry and dirty and sandy, and there was supposedly a monster lurking in the storms.

There was company in an abandoned astronaut, but while Will was perfectly pleasant and surprisingly accommodating of everything she chose to share with him, she couldn’t help but find herself missing the people that she cared about back home.

She missed Skye’s encouragement. She missed the way her eyes lit up when she made a joke, or the genuine pleasure on her face when they spent time with one another. She missed how, through everything, Skye had been a loyal friend- even after she would have been more than justified in holding a grudge against her.

She missed Bobbi’s strength. She missed watching her, unnoticed, as she went about her business around the base- mentally taking note of every single, beautiful detail of her person. She missed feeling safe when Bobbi was around, fully comfortable in the knowledge that the other agent wouldn’t let any harm come to her- and she so desperately wanted to know if Bobbi, herself, was safe.

And she missed Fitz. What words existed to explain how much she missed Fitz?

 

.

 

Simmons was 32, and so much had happened in such a small period of time that it made her head spin trying to keep track of it all. She’d lost love and she’d gained love- she’d lost friends and she’d gained friends. She’d returned from one hell, and fallen into several others. But if she’d learnt anything through the hardships of the past year, it was that there was always a way to return to happiness, even when it felt impossible to even conceive of such a thing.

Feeling the rise and falls of her husband’s chest, and hearing the steady thrum of his head under her ear, she felt perfectly comfortable with where she was.

Underneath her, he shifted, and she realised that sometime over the past hour or so he must have woken. She squinted up at him in the darkness, and saw how his gaze settled on her hand- or, to be more specific, the golden band that wrapped around a specific finger.

“It’s a nice ring, isn’t it.” She murmured, keeping her voice low so as to not startle him.

He moved his gaze, looking over at her with so much love that she felt her heart skip a beat. “It’s just… made me think…”

“About what?” She prompted when he trailed off.

He smiled, and she considered moving to kiss him, because really he looked  _ quite _ handsome.

“How all men are, supposedly, boring.”

Suddenly, she found herself wanting to kiss him significantly less.

“I thought you were supposed to be the romantic one.” She complained.

“I’m  _ definitely _ the romantic one,” He countered, though his tone was still light. “Mrs. I’m-Going-To-Literally-Experiment-With-My-Sexuality.”

“It seemed the most straight-forward way to go about things!”

“Mrs. I’m-Going-To-Make-A-List-Of-My-Colleagues-And-Check-Them-Off-One-By-One.”

“Ugh, Fitz,” She huffed. “I was going to kiss you, but I don’t think I will now.”

She felt his chest move suspiciously under her, but her immediate concern gave way to exasperation when she realised that he was just laughing. At her.

“I’m sorry.” He said, sounding not very sorry at all. “But you’re claiming to be romantic while bribing me with kisses.”

“Is that not romantic?”

He just answered by laughing more.

She looked away from him pointedly, “Well, my methods had results, at least.”

“They did?”

“ _ Yes _ . My research always has results, Fitz.”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right.” She could practically  _ hear _ his grin. “What results did you come to, Dr Simmons?”

“I am definitely bisexual.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I have this one ridiculous husband who I am very attracted to-”

“You are?”

She ignored his interjection, continuing with a smirk, “-But, you know, I did kiss Bobbi once, and there is nothing that compares to that thrill.”

She waited for him to splutter something out, or at least roll his eyes, but to her surprise he did neither. 

Instead, all he did was hum softly, and eventually he said, “That seems understandable. I never did it, but sometimes I wondered what it would be like to...  _ kiss  _ Hunter.”

That wasn’t the response that Simmons had been expecting. She frowned. There was nothing wrong with Fitz wanting to kiss Hunter- the issue was that she wasn’t satisfied with losing in their banter. She’d have to turn things up a notch.

She settled back down on his chest, moving so that she could look at him once again. “You know, I feel exactly the same way. You still have his contact information- perhaps we could see if Bobbi and Hunter feel like joining us some time.”

As Fitz’s face began to heat up and he spluttered for a reply, Simmons smirked.

As always, everything had its answer, and everything was just as she expected it to be.


End file.
